Lemon Pie
by Aurum
Summary: Take an amazingly delicious pie, Dean's inability to eat like a civilized human being, and one angel. Stir until smooth.


**Summary:** Take an amazingly delicious pie, Dean's inability to eat like a civilized human being, and one angel. Stir until smooth.

* * *

Dean's so distracted he doesn't even notice the flutter of wings. He becomes aware of Castiel's presence only when the angel starts talking.

"Dean. What happened?"

"Mphffff," he replies. Then he tries swallowing, with moderate success. "Pie happened!"

The angel tilts his head. "It attacked you?"

More like the other way around, actually, though looking down at himself Dean sees why Cas got the impression. Looks like half of the pie somehow ended up smeared all over his chest, huh.

"Is it... cursed?" Cas asks, taking a step towards Dean's armchair.

"No way, dude! Something this good cannot be bad. It's like a pie made in heaven."

If anything, that just makes Cas more suspicious. "Heaven doesn't produce baked goods," he says, squinting at the plate with entirely too much hostility.

Dean hums and waves his hand, trying to prevent smiting of the pie while he chews the next bit. "See, this is why heaven and I never really saw eye to eye," he says once he has his mouth (mostly) free. "You guys don't know what's good. Come on, try it and tell me it's not the best thing ever."

Cas frowns. "But you've eaten the whole pie."

Dean blinks. He could've sworn there was some more not a minute ago, but now there's just a few crumbs left on the plate. He pouts a little. Then he notices the hand traveling to his mouth of its own volition, stops it halfway and extends it towards the angel with a grin. "Not all is lost!"

And Castiel just takes the few steps forward, grasps his forearm and eats the mash right off his fingers. He chews, contemplative. Dean opens his mouth, but quickly snaps it shut when Cas tugs his hand higher and licks a stripe of meringue from his wrist up to his fingertips.

"It does have a pleasing taste," he announces after a few moments.

"Yeah, what'd I tell you?" Dean grins and looks down at the remnants of the pie. "You should try this bit with the lemon, seriously, it's like a totally different lemon, I never knew it could taste like this—" he lets his mouth run while he attempts to scoop up some of the filling from where it's covering his tattoo and mostly manages to spread it around.

He's interrupted by a hand grabbing his own and a low voice saying a firm "Stop." Before he can work up an argument, Castiel continues: "You're making it worse."

Then he leans down, calm as you please, and licks directly at the lemon pulp smeared over Dean's skin.

Cas lets out a pensive hum and straightens up. "Do you normally take off your clothes when you eat dessert?" he asks, his gaze never leaving the hunter's chest.

Dean shrugs. "Only if they get in the way of pie," he says lightly. Castiel continues to stare at him intently, so he talks some more. "It's not like I stripped down, right, I just took off my shirt. And good thing I did, huh, or it would be full of pie, and obviously I love pie, but it doesn't really mix well with shirts."

Finally the angel gives a curt nod. "Yes, it seems wise," he says and loosens up his tie.

There is a short moment when Dean thinks maybe he should protest, but after all Cas is just taking his advice. So he swipes absent-mindedly at the meringue spread on his pecs and watches as Castiel slides his tie off completely and shrugs out of his trenchcoat, hanging it over a chair.

It's only after Cas rolls up his shirtsleeves that Dean's brain catches up with the current events. "Wait, so you want to, uh." He gestures at his chest. "Just eat the rest?"

"Yes," he answers. After a few moments of silence, he tilts his head. "Do you object?"

Dean thinks about it for a while. It doesn't take long. "Nah, man. Help yourself," he says, because who in their right mind would say no to having their chest licked clean by an angel? Not Dean.

Besides, it would be a total waste to just wash it off, and wasting pie, this one especially, is a big no-no.

Castiel leans down, braces his hands on Dean's thighs and goes back to lapping at the filling smeared over his tattoo. Dean lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding and slides down slightly in the creaky armchair.

It's not the first time someone's licked his chest (though that doesn't happen nearly often enough), but nobody's ever made such an effort to actually _eat_ the stuff. To be fair, it's never been a heavenly pie, but there's a single-minded focus to the way Cas attacks it that's probably unique to the angel. Dean sighs contentedly.

It takes a while to clean off the lemon pulp, but finally Castiel draws back from the tattoo and looks at the skin, slightly shiny with his saliva, with a satisfied expression.

"Awesome, right?" Dean prompts with a smile.

Cas just makes a sound that seems like agreement and moves a little lower, lapping at the white stuff near Dean's left nipple. It's all very nice and relaxing, and Dean tries to remember the last time he just sat down and felt good for more than five minutes. There's just not enough pie in his life, he decides. Especially combined with Cas.

Evidently meringue and whipped cream comes off easier, because Castiel licks his way across Dean's pecs at a quicker pace. Dean swipes his fingers over his right nipple and brings them to his mouth, eyes closing in bliss at the burst of lemony goodness on his tongue.

Almost immediately there's an insistent tug on his hand and he opens his eyes to the sight of a scowling angel. Cas gives him a disapproving look and doesn't waste any time in drawing the pie-covered fingers, regrettably, out of Dean's mouth and straight into his own. Dean blinks down at him in surprise.

"You don't like to share, huh?" he asks, more amused than upset at the loss.

Castiel looks thoughtful as he carefully swipes his tongue between Dean's fingers. He pulls them out only after they feel thoroughly clean. "No," he says shortly and goes back to licking his chest.

That doesn't exactly deter Dean, who just smirks and tries to be sneaky about scooping up some more lemon filling. Cas shoots him a look as if to say that he's onto him, but Dean smiles innocently.

Finally the angel decides that Dean's pecs are as clean as they're going to get (and he would know about that, huh, since he practically put them together) and it's time to move lower. This apparently disagrees with his spine and he huffs a breath against Dean's skin, probably irritated that a body dares to get between him and the pie. Then he kneels down. Dean helpfully spreads his thighs a little wider, earning a pleased hum from Cas, who starts on the stuff spread on his abs without further delay.

Dean manages to coat two fingers in a mix of meringue and lemon pulp without arousing suspicion, so he counts that as a success. He starts contemplating the best way to stealthily get them to his mouth when there's a sound of a key turning in the lock.

The door opens to reveal Sam, hair matted down with water and muttering something about rain. He shuts the door, takes a step forward and freezes, beer bottles clinking in his hand.

He looks at Dean, who does his best to look completely innocent. He looks at Cas, who doesn't even acknowledge his presence, busy with a particularly sticky spot near Dean's hipbone. Then he looks at the table.

His face falls.

"Hey, you didn't leave anything for me!"

Dean grimaces a little, trying for apologetic. He was supposed to wait for Sam, but that just didn't really work out. "Yeah, sorry. My bad." He glances down at himself.

Sam follows his gaze and swallows visibly. Then he makes a face. "Okay, _no_, that's just unsanitary and— your chest— really, Cas? You don't know where it's been!"

Before Dean can protest (because that is just uncalled for), Cas lifts his head from the vicinity of his navel long enough to say: "I do know that," then calmly goes back to licking his abs.

As usual with the angel's pronouncements about Dean, it's kind of creepily sweet, but for once it comes out as more of the latter. Dean aww's a little to himself and pats Cas's head, smearing lemon through his hair and earning a scowl for his efforts.

His brother looks torn between disgust and horrified fascination. Finally he grits his teeth, makes an aborted gesture towards them, then tears away his gaze and turns around. "I'll get my own!" he calls, storming back out the door.

Dean pauses in his contemplation whether getting his hand out of Castiel's hair is worth the effort to be gentle. "Get another one for us!" he shouts after Sam.

Cas hums his agreement against his navel. Dean burrows his hand further in the dark hair and smiles.

**o-o-o-o-o**

"Let me get this straight," says Bobby. Sam cringes, possibly because it sounds more like 'Let's contemplate your total idiocy out loud.'

"You got an _angel_ to eat _pie_ off you — by the way, Dean, there's this thing called _too much information_ —"

Dean just shrugs. It figures he gets hell for being thorough.

"— Sam felt compelled to run through the rain to buy another pie, and you didn't even begin to think that something might be a little suspicious."

The brothers start speaking at the same time, Dean opening with: "What's wrong about—" and Sam whining: "But it was _so good_!"

"Shut up, you idjits!" Bobby barks. They both flinch away from the phone. "I'm not finished. It gets even better! After you stuffed yourselves like happy little pigs, you all went back to the shop, which was closed for the night. Still no bells ringing in those fool heads. You only figured it out when you broke into the shop — in search of more pies — and found the baker working a _spell_ over her heavenly crust. Now, remind me, 'cause I must've missed that part — did you gank the witch?"

"She's not a witch," Sam mutters, offended on behalf of Mrs. Potts. "She just wanted her pie to be irresistible."

Dean makes shushing motions at him and speaks closer to the phone. "We, uh, made sure she won't be doing spells anymore." They got a promise and everything, plus they convinced her that the pie was totally awesome on its own.

Besides, the spellwork was pretty lame anyway. Just a few weird words chanted over some herbs and a tail of a mouse. A _tail_. It's a wonder it worked at all, especially on Cas.

Bobby's sigh rattles the phone. "Just don't call me if she kills you in your sleep. And _don't_ eat cursed desserts, you fools." He hangs up.

Sam fidgets a little, probably feeling guilty about the fact that he ditched his salad for some seriously awesome pie and liked it, deep down inside. "So, uh. Is Cas coming back or..."

"Beats me." Dean shrugs, because he honestly wouldn't know. After they dealt with the problem and left the shop, Castiel just stared at him for a long moment (more like a few long moments, actually) and then disappeared without a word.

And okay, Dean kind of gets that. He had a moment when he freaked out a little in the privacy of his own head, because it's not every day that he gets licked clean by a nerdy dude and has pretty much the most pleasant and peaceful time all the while. But he quickly decided to stop over-thinking nice things and just roll with it. Friends lick each other sometimes, right? It's no big deal.

Besides, it's _Cas_. There's like a whole another set of rules for him. What's a little inappropriate touching between a guy and the angel who dragged him from Hell?

So, Dean's totally cool with all that, and if Castiel wants to sulk somewhere on his own, that's his business. "We might as well start without him."

Sam eyes the table with a slightly wary expression. "You're sure they're okay now, right?"

"Totally. One hundred percent natural baked goodness."

They got a few fresh pies as an apology for causing 'such a mess, oh dear'. For a wannabe witch, Mrs. Potts was actually pretty sweet. She even put extra cream on his new favorite.

Dean gets off his bed and relocates to the table, followed by his somewhat reluctant giant little brother. He pushes the cherry pie towards Sam and digs into the lemon meringue. His eyes close in bliss.

And maybe it is a shame that Castiel took his feathery ass to Heaven or wherever he goes for his brooding marathons, because licking the filling off somebody looked like fun and maybe Dean'd like to try this himself, why not. It's just a thought. If he's thinking especially loudly, it's only because the pie is _so good_, seriously, Mrs. Potts outdid herself.

He feels rather than hears the flutter of wings behind his back. Sam pauses with a spoon inches from his mouth and shoots a wary look between Dean and Castiel. "I'll... take my pie outside, or something, huh?"

"Very well," Cas agrees.

Dean's probably grinning like an idiot, but whatever. He's got the best brother, the best angel _and_ the best pie ever, all in one place. Well, not really, since Sam hightails it out the door in record time. The bang of the door is closely followed by a swish of a tie being tugged off, and Dean's life right now?

It's pretty freakin' awesome.


End file.
